


Flickers of Dreams

by RedWyvern



Series: Echoes of Dreams [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 30 Day Prompt Challenge, Drabbles, Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23992861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedWyvern/pseuds/RedWyvern
Summary: I was linked to https://gatheredfates.tumblr.com/post/617061345483014144/hey-so-i-did-a-thing-from-a-suggestion-given and a friend did one, and I figured, why not.
Series: Echoes of Dreams [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697563
Kudos: 1





	1. Summary, and Table of Contents

**Author's Note:**

> https://gatheredfates.tumblr.com/post/617061345483014144/hey-so-i-did-a-thing-from-a-suggestion-given

I was linked to https://gatheredfates.tumblr.com/post/617061345483014144/hey-so-i-did-a-thing-from-a-suggestion-given and a friend did one, and I figured, why not. I've been trying to work on a little bit of writing each day, and the folks over at the discord linked below have been a great service to that hope. While I've tried to have a max word a day goal, I did want to try to spit out little character driven thoughts, and was linked to a nice list of prompts. These will all be about, or from the focus of, my AuRa WoL, Atara, and are part of the 'Echoes of Dreams' series.

**Omen** \- For the Mol, many things speak to Omens.

 **Unspoken -** Sometimes nothing needs to be said. Sometimes things are best left unspoken. Sometimes, you just _know_. 

**Break** \- What happens when a heart shatters


	2. Omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omen: prompt from https://gatheredfates.tumblr.com/post/617061345483014144/hey-so-i-did-a-thing-from-a-suggestion-given

The smoke from the incense rose and coiled around the end of the Shaman’s staff, drifting lazily as it dissipated into the air far faster than she had anticipated, for there was little wind on this day. The elderly xaela closed her eyes for a moment, then turned her gaze down to the ash that dropped from the burning bundle of herbs. The incense bundle trembled and a significant portion of the ash fell from it’s edges, flickers of flame still within the fallen gray sending wisps of smoke to the sky while the edge of the bundle barely stayed lit. She did not move as she observed the burning embers, those in the ash snuffled out, while those within the bundle of herbs smouldered within, leaving the edges unmarked. There was little change for so long, she began to think the incense had burnt out, but then a wisp of smoke rose past the first tie keeping the wild grasses together as the fire within reminded her of its presence. With a spark of light, a flame like a candle emerged, burning brighter than the single lantern that rested at the Shaman’s side, yet did not consume the grasses. It lingered, like it was making sure that she took note of it, before flicking off as if doused, the remainder of the bundle left unburnt and whole. 

The Mol woman closed her eyes again and smiled lightly. It seemed the spirits had great interest in the upcoming birth of her grandchild. Great interest, great potential, great pain. Snuffing her lantern, she rose to her feet and lifted her staff, already making note of the items she had best prepare while strengthening her heart against approaching loss. As she heard some level of commotion from one of the other yurts, where she knew her daughter was in labor, her eyes lifted to the slowly darkening sky as evening fell. In the distance, a star streaked across the sky before it flared brightly just over the horizon where it came to land. The Shaman exchanged a glance with her husband standing guard not far away, and with a nod, he took the reins of a nearby horse and swung onto it’s back, heading for where the star had come to rest. No other members of their small tribe had seen the star, either bustling about to prepare for the coming harvest, or focused on the home expecting a new member. 

Inside the yurt, a baby began to cry. 


	3. Unspoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todays prompt, Unspoken. Set immediately after prior chapter.

Stepping into the home where her grandchild was being born, the Mol Shaman stood by the entry for a moment to let her eyes adjust to the dimmer light inside. Two of the other tribe members were there, healer and midwife; then the owners of the yurt, her daughter and her mate, their son off with one of the other families. Stepping in, the older xaela woman moved over to her daughters side. As expected, she lay still, her mate silently crying with his face pressed to her stomach. The healer softly murmured ritual words, while nearby the midwife tried to soothe the crying child. 

She set one hand on the shoulder of the crying man, leaning down to brush her lips in a gentle kiss to her daughter’s forehead, then brushed away the tear that had fallen. No words were exchanged, none were needed. The touch from the shaman only seemed to break down the man even further, he curling into himself against the side of the low bed, tail wrapping around his waist. She stroked her hand along his back a moment, then turned towards the midwife and the newest member of the little tribe. 

The baby’s cries had grown softer, the elder woman catching the weakening sound and stepping over to the midwife. The younger woman looked up to the elder leader of their tribe, her eyes wide and uncertain, shaking her head as she slightly held up the milk skin, the baby refusing to suckle. Smiling lightly, the shaman reached out, gently taking the baby from the midwife and cradling her close, rocking her arms gently as she looked down to the small figure. 

Atara.

The name came to her, simply there in her thoughts, the word unspoken, even by the spirits. As the name settled into her mind, the small baby stopped her crying with a shuddering little breath, one hand grasping hold of one of the elder woman’s frosted black dreadlocks of hair. The skin at the corner of her eyes crinkled as she couldn’t help but smile through her sadness, gifted with life on the other side of a death. She took the milk skin from the midwife and turned to step away to sink down to sit on some rugs near the small stove. Stroking the little girl’s cheek, she gently soothed her with a soft touch along the side of her neck, the tiny, soft scales there an intense darkness that carried a hint of an iridescent sheen. When the nipple was offered to her this time, she took it with no further complaint. 

Silence slowly fell on the small home as the sobs of the child's father faded to silent tears as he helped the healer prepare the body of his mate. The shamaness noted that he had not so much looked in her direction or at the child in the time she had entered, exhaling a light breath through her nose as her tail curled lightly around her side as she continued to nurse the newborn. Already, she could see at least part of the path that would now be walked, and knew that it was going to be a long road. Silently, she prayed for strength; for herself, for the child, for her family. 

The gentle realization that this, this moment, this birth, this death, all of it, was why the spirits had told her to take her family and leave the Steppe. Again, no words need be said, the truth and fact of it simply becoming knowledge, and she closed her eyes, her shoulders relaxing, an unseen but very much felt burden lifting. The star she had seen, it had gone from East to West, a shining path laid before her granddaughter, one of the greatest omens for a birth. But she knew she could not say it, could not do what tradition usually dictated; to show the tribe the child and the sky stone, to speak of the light and color and direction it had traveled. No, only she and her husband would know, for now. She was certain her husband would find a sizeable sky stone on the other side of the horizon where the star came to land, and someday...someday...she would share it with Atara. 

The next while would be a time of discovery, of learning what the spirits intended, now that her past task had been completed. A new life to be nurtured, a loss to soothe. To see where they would be guided next. So much possibility, so much unknown. 


	4. Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unlike the others so far in this series, this bit takes place well past currently written chapters of my own story, featuring Kohanya from Nightmist's story 'Living Hands'. Our worlds are joined and WoL's will feature in each other stories, you'll see Kohanya holding Atara together at a few spots more than just as a healer! 
> 
> 'Living Hands' can be found at https://archiveofourown.org/works/22213378/chapters/54387670

There was no sound when it happened, at least not on the physical level that she could actually hear.

She was on the other side of the platform, prodding lightly at the fallen greatsword once wielded by one of the accursed knights; which one, she didn’t care. She entertained the thought of taking it as a personal reward for all the crap they had been through because of him and his fellows, but she decided that was too ghoulish even for her...she was already wielding a dead man’s sword. 

She had glanced over as the dragoon arrived, but left conversation between him and Kohanya, her tail lashing behind herself as she couldn’t shake the sensation that something was still desperately wrong, looking for any sign that somehow, Thoradin or the damn Ascians were still about. The oppressive heaviness from the spirit side of things was something she couldn’t pinpoint the reason for, and her Elder spirit was apprehensive when she reached for it. Her dark ‘hanger on’, on the other hand, seemed to almost vibrate with anticipation. 

It was the strange sound that came from Estinien that drew her eyes to the other two, just in time for the world to go utterly silent to her as spiritually, her soul shook with the resonating roar of triumph that caused her to stagger back a step as the energy hit her even through her personal shielding. One eye closed in pain from the sound in her mind, the rest of her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing; dark aether twisting and rising as a dragon where the elezen had just stood. 

Protective instinct had her already rushing forward as Kohanya dropped her tome to the metal floor, her greaves screeching on the metal as she skidded to a stop and braced against the wind that washed over the platform as Niddhog took off into the sky, the furious roaring sound on the spiritual level fading with his departure. 

Atara had never seen someone visibly break before, something leaving Kohanya’s eyes and her body losing the usual grace she held herself with, even her ears managing to turn to the sides limply, no motion from her dark colored tail. The au ra called to the miqo’, her hand hovering to catch the other woman should she show signs of falling, but she barely showed signs of anything at all. She looked to Midgardsormr, the dragon standing and looking after where his child had flown off in the stolen body, Atara’s eyes flicking to follow his gaze before looking back to the elder dragon. 

She felt tears pricking at the corner of her eyes as her heart ached for her friend, the fellow Scion having become an anchor for the au ra during the last months after everything in Ul’dah. Her heart knew the pain of watching a lover at what could possibly be the last moment before losing them forever, for her it was still an open wound of uncertainty. “C-come, let's leave this cursed place.” Atara stopped briefly to pick up the fallen tome and put it into her pack along with her gauntlets, she wanted to physically connect with Kohanya at the very least, hoping she would register the touch of scarred hand to her arm as she coaxed the mute woman over to help her onto dragonback, climbing up behind and wrapping her arm and tail around her friend, holding her tightly to her chest as Midgardsormr took to the sky. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've found a wonderfully supportive author and reader Discord over at Emet-Selch's Wholesomely Debauched Book Club. https://discord.gg/5TdhTCV Come join us!


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